


Worlds Collide

by this_wayward_life



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tarzan (1999)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Tarzan Fusion, Animal Abuse, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Don't own slaves kids, Father-Son Relationship, Graphic Animal Abuse, Happy Ending, Hydra (Marvel), Inspired by Tarzan, Legal Slavery, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Sam Wilson is a Gift, animal cruelty, brief mention of Steve/Peggy, set in the 1800s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_wayward_life/pseuds/this_wayward_life
Summary: The creature Steve was chasing was in front of him."Son of a bitch," Steve breathed. Because it wasn't a creature.It was a man.And he was beautiful.





	Worlds Collide

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know I got a Tarzan AU  
(For the full experience, listen to the soundtrack of the 1999 Disney movie, Tarzan. Songs written and performed by Phil Collins)  
(((((fuck yeah phil collins)))))))

It was like nothing Steve had ever seen.

The trees were huge and looming, gently framing the coastline with their bright green leaves and deep brown branches. The sand was nothing like what he'd seen in England or America - soft and pale yellow grains that pillowed under his shoes. Steve longed to feel them beneath his bare feet. 

Steve glanced over at Erskine, who was attempting to pull a large box of research material out of the small rowboat. His adoptive father's hat was askew, and Steve was pretty sure his shirt was buttoned wrong. It seemed that no matter what, Erskine always managed to have that "mad scientist" look about him. 

Steve looked back up to the trees, breathing in the rich smell of earth. It was moments like these that he really loved his life. Sure, New York was his home, and London was beautiful in its own way, but being away from society, in the wilderness with nothing but his slightly senile tutor/adopted parent and the native wildlife around, really made Steve feel like he was living, and not just drifting along in society. 

"So what exactly are you doing here in Africa, Doctor?" their guide asked, a barely concealed sneer on his face. Steve felt his eye twitch, but Erskine didn't seem to notice.

"We are studying the nature of leopards living in jungles, Mr Rumlow," Erskine replied calmly, finally managing to get the box out of the boat. "I believed you already knew that."

"I'm just not sure I understand why you would want to learn about these beasts," Rumlow replied, his lip curling. 

"Mr Rumlow, I would much prefer to have the wildest, most savage leopard in my company rather than you," Steve said absentmindedly, lifting the box out of Erskine's arms and carrying it under his arm. "Now are you going to lead us to our campsite, or will we have to leave you out here for the ship to collect in three weeks?"

Rumlow turned an unflattering shade of purple and spun on his heel, hefting the rifle in his hands.

"I don't understand why you hired him," Steve said to Erskine under his breath. "He's clearly unhinged, and we don't need a guide or a bodyguard."

"It would be wise to have someone who knows the land with us," Erskine reminded him. "And besides, we have no means to fight off a cat or angry silverback. Perhaps a bodyguard would be most useful."

Steve sighed, hefting the box into a more comfortable position, before following Rumlow into the African jungle.

\------

"I don't see any sign of those leopards, Doctor," Rumlow said loudly, swinging his machete through another clump of leaves.

"Maybe if you weren't putting up such a racket, we'd be able to see them," Steve grumbled, leaning down to press his fingertips against the clear footprint of a feline. "They were definitely here - maybe not that long ago. My suggestion would be to go back to camp, drop off Mr Rumlow there, and continue the search by ourselves so we actually have a chance of seeing them."

"Well, this does confirm my theory," Erskine murmured, kneeling down beside Steve, his eyes focused on the footprint. "They are obviously maternal animals - there was most likely a mother and her cubs."

Rumlow laughed. "You're quite senile, Doctor. Beasts like these cannot have meaningful relationships like we can." He leered at Steve, who recoiled.

"Perhaps you don't understand the definition of meaningful relationships, sir. I wouldn't put it past you, considering your obvious sociopathy," Steve snapped. 

"Steven," Erskine warned, but Steve ignored him, choosing instead to take out his sketchbook and start to etch out the footprint in front of him. He barely noticed the two other men leaving until Rumlow's annoying voice faded. Steve sighed and flipped his sketchbook shut as he stood, following the sounds of his guide's voice.

The jungle around him was beautiful - sweeping trees that blocked out the sky, huge flowers blooming every step. Birds of all shapes, sizes and colours flew and roosted above him, and Steve watched as a red and blue parrot used its beak to break through the thick skin of some kind of colourful fruit. He barely caught the flash of something moving in the tree next to him until a twig snapped loudly.

Steve spun around to face the tree, scouring the branches and leaves to find the same creature that made that noise. He took a slow step forward, brushing leaves away from his face. There was a rustle, then something very large and very fast swung away into the forest behind it. Steve blinked, stunned. It had been around the size of a man, with long limbs and a lithe form. It was too slim to be a gorilla, not proportioned the same as a chimpanzee, too large to be a monkey, and obviously bipedal.

"It couldn't be," Steve murmured to himself, feeling himself being to brim with excitement. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before, or heard about or read about. Steve may well have discovered a new species. A large grin spread across his face before he made the split-second decision to follow whatever he'd found. 

It moved quickly, staying high off the ground and flipping between trees. Every now and then Steve caught a glimpse of it - a flash of tanned skin (no fur!), the sound of vines straining under something's weight. Steve kept a strong hold on the sketchbook in his hands, jumping over a particularly large root that had lodged itself in his path, not taking his eyes off the swooping figure above him. As he watched, the creature jumped what seemed like an impossible distance between trees, landing in a crouch at the dip of a tree before scrambling up the branches. 

Steve glared up at the tree, considering his possibilities. He could just give up - the tree was tall, and although it may be easy to climb, there was no telling what lay for him when he caught up with the creature. That being said... Steve was ridiculously stubborn. And he wasn't exactly known for his survival instincts. Tucking his sketchbook into the waistband of his pants, and slipping his pencil into his boot, Steve took hold of a barb in the tree's trunk and started to climb.

Silently thanking the constant boredom that led him to develop the frankly obscene muscles he was using to hoist himself further into the canopy, Steve pulled himself up branch by branch, the forest floor soon becoming obscured by the lower-hanging leaves of the tree. Pushing a branch out of the way, Steve found himself in a spacious clearing, high in the trees, with sunlight gleaming through the leaves and interlocking branches creating a makeshift floor. And the creature Steve was chasing was there.

"Son of a bitch," Steve breathed. Because it wasn't a creature.

It was a man.

Steve dropped to his knees slowly, wincing as the sketchbook dug into his hip. He pulled it out and rested it on his lap, not taking his eyes off the human - an actual human - crouched in front of him. The man was beautiful - that was the first thing Steve noticed when his brain caught up with the fact there was a man in a loincloth in the middle of Africa. His hair was long and dark, falling past his shoulders and in front of his face. As Steve watched, the man ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face - such a human gesture Steve was thrown off. He seemed to be a bit smaller than Steve himself, with wiry muscles covering his body. Tanned skin was mottled by scars - obviously the most recent being four parallel slash marks on his chest, bright red in colour.

"You're hurt," Steve realised. The man looked at him warily but allowed Steve to come closer. Up close, his eyes were a startling blue-grey. Steve slowly reached a hand up to brush his fingers across the deep cuts, and the man jolted. Suddenly Steve found his back pressed against the branches that were previously underneath him, with the man on top of him and a spearhead at Steve's throat.

"Okay, so I shouldn't have done that," Steve managed to gasp out. "Sorry. But I need to look at that wound."

The man's stare was so intense it almost made Steve feel uneasy, but he slid off and got to his feet in one graceful motion. Steve couldn't help but watch the smooth roll of muscles beneath the man's skin.

"What's your name?" Steve asked gently, standing up. The man just kept staring at him, the spearhead being spun between his fingers. Quite suddenly, the spearhead was dropped, and the man was back in front of Steve, close enough to touch. He reached out a hand and placed it, very gently, against Steve's heart. Something that looked like confusion flashed behind his eyes. Steve felt as the man's other hand closed around his wrist, taking their hands in front of them and pressing them together, palm to palm. The man had beautiful hands, Steve noticed. They were smaller than his, with long, thin fingers and callouses covering every square inch. 

"You're like me." The man's voice was full of wonder. He raised his gaze from their hands to Steve's face, his eyes wide.

"Who are you?" Steve croaked out. The man's eyes were making his head spin.

The man seemed to think about that for a second. "I... I don't remember." He furrowed his eyebrows. "My mother called me Bucky. Before she died. Before I came here." He looked up at Steve. "Who are you?"

He pressed the palm of his hand to Steve's cheek. Steve licked his suddenly dry lips. "I'm Steve. I'm from New York. I-I'm a zoologist."

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows again. "What is a zoologist?"

"I study animals. I'm here to find leopards," Steve found himself saying.

Bucky nodded, then seemed to consider something. "Steve." He said it carefully, as if practising. Then he smiled - and it was so blindingly beautiful that Steve almost had to look away. "Steve."

"Bucky," Steve replied. Bucky's smile widened. The hand still pressed against Steve's curled around his own, their fingers intertwining. Steve tore his gaze away from the icy blue eyes that were suddenly the only thing of importance and looked down at the cuts on Bucky's chest.

"I do need to look at those. They might be infected."

Bucky tilted his head to the side in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

"Have you washed the wound?"

"I have swum in the river."

Steve winced and ran his free hand over the slashes. Bucky tensed under his fingers. "Come back with me to my camp. I can wash and dress the wound."

"Your camp?" Bucky questioned.

"Where I'm staying," Steve elaborated, feeling a small smile making its way onto his lips. "Where I sleep."

Bucky seemed to understand and nodded. "And you want me to come with you. To your nest."

Steve felt the smile grow a bit bigger. "Yeah."

Bucky smiled at that, and nodded. "Yeah," he parroted. 

"Let's go," Steve said, tugging on Bucky's hand that he was still holding. "We need to get there before it gets dark, otherwise I'll never find my way back."

Bucky tilted his head to the side, but allowed Steve to lead him back down to the ground, and followed a few paces back as Steve made his way back to the camp. Bucky's footsteps were silent, even on the crunching leaves. Steve wondered how he'd managed to survive by himself.

Back at the camp, Steve saw Erskine frantically scribbling in a notebook. Rumlow was cleaning a shotgun at the edge of the camp. Bucky tensed and pressed into Steve's side when he caught sight of the weapon, and Steve rubbed his shoulder gently.

"Hey, it's okay," Steve said gently. "Mr Rumlow may be a savage, but he's with us."

"One of those things killed my second mother," Bucky said, his eyes trained on the rifle in Rumlow's hand. 

"What do you mean by second mother?" Steve asked. Bucky looked at him in confusion.

"I had one mother. Then I had a different one." Bucky turned back to look at the gun. "It killed my second mother and my sister. Then the man wielding it skinned them and wore their coats on his back."

Steve felt a shudder go down his back before sudden realisation hit him. "Your mother and sister were leopards."

Bucky squinted up at him. "That is what the man called them, yes. To me, they were my second mother and my sister."

Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky's waist. "I'm sorry for your loss. Stay close to me - we won't have to go anywhere near Mr Rumlow and his gun."

Bucky visibly relaxed but stayed tucked into Steve's side as he led them into the camp.

"So the prince decided to join us," Rumlow drawled without looking up.

"Rumlow put the gun down," Steve sighed. "You're not doing yourself any favours."

Rumlow snapped his head up to glare at Steve and then was on his feet in an instant, glaring a hole into Bucky's head. "What is that?!"

"None of your business," Steve said, brushing past Rumlow and towards Erskine. Bucky bared his teeth at Rumlow, who took a step back.

"My God, it's feral."

"Rumlow, shut up," Steve replied. "Erskine? I need to speak to you."

"Just a second, my boy," Erskine replied, still scribbling frantically. "I'm writing up my report."

"That can wait," Steve insisted. "Erskine, please. He's hurt."

That made Erskine look up, and as his eyes landed on Bucky he dropped the pencil. "My God," he whispered.

"Can we talk about this inside?" Steve asked, aware of Rumlow's glare burning into the back of his skull. 

Erskine stood up and ushered Steve and Bucky into the tent, closing the flaps for good measure. Bucky pressed further into Steve's side, looking around warily.

"Hey, it's okay," Steve murmured, nosing at Bucky's hair. "You're safe here."

Bucky leaned into the touch, his lips touching Steve's neck. Erskine watched them with fascination.

"Erskine, this is Bucky," Steve said, placing a hand on the small of Bucky's back. "Buck, this is Doctor Erskine. He's my adoptive father."

"Adoptive?" Bucky questioned.

"He took me in when my parents died. Like what your second mother did."

Bucky looked at Erskine, who smiled kindly.

"Hello, Bucky," Erskine said gently. Bucky tilted his head, but Steve felt him relax minutely.

"Come on, Buck," Steve said, urging Bucky forward. "I gotta clean those wounds."

Bucky went without protest and sat down on the stool in the middle of the tent. He barely flinched when Steve started cleaning the cuts with rubbing alcohol.

"How'd you get hurt, Bucky?" Steve asked softly, and pressed his palm to Bucky's cheek. Bucky leaned into the touch, letting out a soft whine. 

"Rival male," he responded. "We fought. I got hurt, but I won."

Steve nodded, ignoring Erskine's questioning look his way. "How long ago was that?"

Bucky's face scrunched up. "Six sunrises ago."

Steve dabbed at the wound some more, silently thanking God that it hadn't gotten infected. His hands were slightly shaking. Steve's movements stilled when a smaller, tanned hand touched his. 

"Steve." Bucky's voice was soft. Steve looked up, and Bucky bumped their noses together. "I'm alright." 

Steve leaned forward more, his eyes sliding shut as he felt Bucky's eyelashes against his cheek. There was something bubbling up in his sternum, something that Steve hadn't felt since Margaret. And he knew that it was wrong, that two men were not allowed to love one another - and that was what it was, wasn't it? - but Steve prayed that he and Bucky could be the exception. He was already falling dangerously fast for someone he'd only met a few hours before.

And as Steve intertwined their fingers, and Bucky let out a contented hum, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

\-----

Bucky was beautiful when he was sleeping, Steve thought. His hair fell over his face, and he drooled ever so slightly, and it was just the sweetest thing that Steve had ever seen. Two weeks had passed since they'd come to Africa and Steve had met Bucky, with Bucky occasionally leaving to hunt or bathe or whatever he did, but always coming back to the camp. Back to Steve. 

Erskine hadn't asked any questions about the newest resident of the camp, but Steve saw the burning curiosity in his eyes sometimes, when the older man forgot to hide it. Rumlow skulked in the shadows of the camp, glaring at Bucky and never leaving his rifle out of reach.

("You want to tell me how you found a wild man in the jungle?" Erskine asked on the second day, not unkindly. 

"He was raised by the leopards," Steve had whispered, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. "He was adopted by a female with a young cub."

"How can he speak English? And how does he have a name?" Erskine asked. 

Steve looked around, but Rumlow was still outside, and Bucky was wherever he went in the day. Steve didn't know at the time that Bucky would come back. "You remember the Barnes family?" he asked quietly. "The researcher and his wife and their son who went to Africa fifteen years ago, but their ship never arrived?"

Erskine's eyes widened. "You're saying that Bucky could be the lost James Barnes?"

"He's the right age," Steve argued. "And whenever he talks about the leopard who raised him, he calls her his 'second mother'. He said that his mother called him Bucky. James Barnes's middle name was Buchanan."

"My God," Erskine had whispered. )

As the two of them sat in the tent and looked over at the sleeping man, Erskine pulled Steve out of his thoughts. "But how did he survive the shipwreck? If he really is James Barnes, that is."

"Maybe he swam to shore," Steve said, not taking his eyes off Bucky. "Maybe he held onto a piece of the ship and managed to not drown. Maybe his parents put him in the lifeboat and sent him away. I don't know."

Erskine paused, and looked at Steve critically. "You are falling in love with him, aren't you?" 

Steve met his gaze. "I've barely known him two weeks, Abraham."

"My late wife and I only knew each other a month before we wed," Erskine replied. "Love can be slow, or it can be fast, or it can be somewhere in-between."

"Even if I was in love with him," Steve tried again, "it's not allowed. We're both men."

"But it is love," Erskine said with a small smile on his face. "Nothing can tame love. And there are no laws in this land, Steven." He paused. "I know how much you hate New York and its rules. I know that you hate being around the people of our class. Perhaps this man will help you find your home."

Steve turned away and looked back at Bucky. He stifled a yawn, and Erskine stood up.

"I should let you get some sleep," Erskine said gently, and placed his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Think about what I said."

"Goodnight," Steve said quietly. Erskine squeezed his shoulder once before he left. The tent closed silently behind him. 

Steve got up and walked over to sit on the cot, and brushed some of Bucky's hair off his face. Bucky shifted, and his eyes opened slightly.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Steve said quietly. Bucky looked at him for a few moments, before he shuffled to the edge of the cot, a clear invitation. Steve hesitated for a second, before taking his boots, pants and shirt off, leaving him in a singlet and the loose pants he always wore under his safari trousers. Bucky watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, and when Steve slipped under the covers, Bucky raised himself onto his elbow, half on top of Steve. His hair was falling into his face, so Steve reached up and tucked it behind Bucky's ear. Bucky's face was unreadable.

"Talk to me, Buck," Steve whispered. Bucky blinked.

"I am not James Barnes," he said softly. "Not anymore."

"I know."

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. "And you don't mind?"

Steve smiled softly. "Bucky, I never knew James Barnes. But I know you."

Bucky leaned down, their noses inches apart. His hair fell into Steve's face.

"The doctor has said that he will be going back to New York soon," Bucky said quietly, avoiding Steve's eyes. "You must know... I won't be going. This is my home."

Steve's chest hurt - a deep aching that left him blinking back tears. "And New York is my home."

Bucky lowered his head. "I will miss you."

Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky's head. "I'll miss you too."

Bucky tucked his head into the crook of Steve's neck, his fingers idly playing with Steve's singlet. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, tucking him in closer so there was barely any space between their bodies. Bucky's hair was soft on Steve's cheek.

They fell asleep curled around each other, both refusing to let go until the sun was peeking out from the horizon.

\-----

The ship that was to take them back to New York was called the _Hydra,_ its crew members large and burly, who all probably had the mental capacity of a gnat. Steve watched as they took down his tent with relative ease, hauled his cot and chest of belongings out with no caution whatsoever, and started taking them down to the ship. Rumlow was conversing with the ship's Captain Pierce, and as Steve watched, five of the shipmates came out of the jungle, carrying a large box between them. It was the third time Steve had seen them do it.

Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

Steve startled at the hand on his shoulder but relaxed once he saw Erskine standing next to him. "He'll be here, Steven," Erskine said gently. "He wouldn't let you leave without saying goodbye."

Bucky had disappeared before dawn, rubbing his nose against Steve's when Steve had reached out to him. "I will be back soon," Bucky had whispered, then pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek that had warmed him to the bone. 

As Steve was lost in his thoughts, he didn't see Rumlow walk up to them until Erskine greeted him politely.

"We're almost ready to start boarding," Rumlow said, shooting a glare towards Steve. "I take it your pet hasn't shown?"

Steve took a step forward, ready to smack the smug look off Rumlow's face, but Erskine stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Give us a minute would you, Mr Rumlow?" Erskine said politely. Rumlow nodded his head and walked off, favouring his left leg. Erskine turned back to Steve, his eyes gentle. "You can't let him get to you like that, Steven. It's what he wants."

"But what if Bucky doesn't show?" Steve asked, and his voice cracked. "Abraham, what if I never see him again?"

Erskine just put his arm around Steve's shoulders and didn't answer.

And an hour later, when Steve watched the African coastline fade into the distance, he felt a solitary tear make its way down his cheek.

\-----

Three hours on the water and Steve was just about ready to jump overboard and swim back to Africa. The ship was large, with several crewmen, and at least two were shadowing Steve at all times. There was an aching, uncomfortable tickle in Steve's midriff that grew in intensity every time he caught a crewmember's eye or was stopped from going below deck.

It took another hour until Steve managed to slip away from the crewmembers that had acted as his shadow, and carefully make his way below deck. The main sleeping quarters were on the deck, which was a strange idea that Steve had never seen before on a merchant vessel. The hallways below deck were dark and musty, and a thick scent that reminded Steve of the zoo permeated the air.

It wasn't long before he came across the first cage.

A pathetic moan came from what Steve had assumed to be a box with a blanket covering it, and Steve froze. He slowly turned towards the box and crept forward, slipping the blanket off quietly before dropping it in shock. It wasn't a box at all, but a cage - a cage containing a magnificent creature that Steve had only ever seen in books.

"What did they do to you?" Steve whispered in horror. The leopard let out a pained whine, attempting to get to its feet but falling down almost immediately. Its paws were bloody, its fur was dirty, and Steve could easily see the poor creature's ribs. 

Stumbling back, Steve ran to another 'box' and threw the blanket off, revealing a beaten and bruised chimpanzee. The next cage contained an eagle with a collar around its neck and half its feathers plucked, and in another Steve found a baby elephant whose legs were wrapped in steel wire.

"They aren't merchants," Steve whispered to himself before he turned around and threw up into a bucket. The elephant calf weakly trumpeted, its trunk falling to the ground.

Steve staggered back to his feet, bracing himself on the elephant's cage as his legs slowly stopped shaking. He put the blankets back on top of the cages, schooled his expression to one of boredom, and walked back up to the deck.

\-----

"Y'know, I really appreciate the help, Mr Rogers," the cook, Samuel "call me Sam" Wilson, said cheerfully. "Not many of the men on this ship would help make dinner, let alone help an African American."

"All that race discrimination makes no sense," Steve said listlessly, peeling potatoes. "You're still humans. We don't hate people with different coloured hair, do we? Why should a person's skin be any different?"

"Because they found our ancestors in Africa, and you white men think it's a land of savages," Sam reminded him, and Steve winced. 

"How long have you been working here?" Steve asked instead.

"I wouldn't call it working," Sam said, and made a face. "I'm a slave. Mr Pierce bought me and my friend Rhodes off his German friend Armin. Rhodey works as the chambermaid, so I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Steve hesitated. "Sam, what do you think of animal cruelty and trafficking?"

Sam winced. "Since the whites value my people as animals, I'm really not a fan. Why?"

Steve looked around, then lowered his voice. "Listen, I need your help with something. These guys aren't merchants."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "Mr Pierce is a businessman and a merchant. He's been doing this job for years."

"It's a front," Steve hissed. "I went below deck. There are cages full of animals - half-starved, injured, ripped away from their natural habitat."

Sam's eyes went wide. "Do you think they're smuggling humans too?"

"I'm not sure," Steve admitted. "I couldn't look at more than a couple before I was sick. And I couldn't do anything about it."

"We still can't do anything about it," Sam hissed. "We're in the middle of the ocean, and the nearest land is hours away!"

"That's why I need your help," Steve replied. "Listen, Doctor Erskine has taught me all about herbal remedies, and I know what can make people fall asleep within minutes. We're going to drug the crew, lock them up in their rooms, then sail back to Africa."

"And what if the herbs don't work?" Sam asked, eyes wide. 

"The animals will probably be killed. And we might, too."

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay. We'll put the sleeping potion in the stew. We can go without dinner tonight."

Steve let out a breath of relief. "I promise you, if they find us out, you'll never be linked. I'll take all the blame."

"Bullshit," Sam replied. "Listen, man. Either we both go down, or neither of us does. That's the deal."

Steve felt a smile creep onto his face, and Sam gave him a gap-toothed grin in return. "Alright. Thanks, Sam."

Sam waved it away. "Hey, you're the only person on this ship apart from Rhodey that actually treats me like a person. I'm growing a little fond."

\------

When Rumlow started yawning, Steve caught Sam's eye from where the cook was positioned in the corner of the room. Erskine had retired to his bedroom claiming of a stomach ache, and Rhodey had stocked all the crew's rooms with rope to tie them up with. Sam was to clean up after supper, and Steve excused himself as Rollins and Sitwell started rubbing at their eyes wearily.

It wasn't long until Sam knocked on his door and they, along with Rhodey and Erskine, went from room to room tying up the crewmembers and barricading their doors.

"Someone will have to stand guard in the corridor, just in case," Steve warned. 

"I'll do it," Rhodey offered. "I know how to fight, and I confiscated all their guns. So if one of 'em tries to get at me, I can just shoot 'em."

"You know how to shoot?" Sam asked, and Rhodey rolled his eyes.

"Of course I know how to shoot. I grew up on a farm in Texas."

"Sam, can you grab some food for the animals?" Steve asked. "Most of them are starving."

Sam nodded and jogged away to the galley. When Steve turned to look at Erskine questioningly, the older man just held up a first aid kit, and Steve nodded gratefully.

It was dark below deck, but Steve couldn’t risk bringing a lantern only to have one of the animals knock it over and start a fire - their eyes could adjust. The first thing Steve did was take the blankets off all the cages, allowing the poor creatures trapped in there to see.

"There are two rooms full of animals," Steve said quietly. "We'll patch up the animals that need help in here, and Sam will drop off food periodically. Then we can do the same thing in the second room."

First, they unwrapped the steel wire from the elephant calf's legs. The poor thing whimpered and stretched out its legs, but stayed still as Erskine stitched up and bandaged the wounds. Then onto the leopard, that had been forced to walk over broken glass. Steve collected the bloody shards in the bucket he'd puked in earlier that day, then threw the contents over the side of the ship.

They took the collar off the eagle. They wrapped up the chimpanzee's right leg and both its arms. They splinted a bat's wing. They untangled a python that had been tied in a knot. Sam kept coming down with his arms laden with salted raw meat, wheat, biscuits and anything else he could get his hands on. The leopard gulped down three huge chunks of hide, then drank what must have been a gallon of its water. Steve refilled the bowl, and the leopard didn't shrink away from him.

When they'd finished, the three of them walked into the second room and started taking the blankets off the cages, as they'd done in the first room. Steve swallowed his nausea as he came across a colobus monkey cradling her baby, a large gash across one of her eyes, and kept moving. A pygmy hippopotamus lay on its side panting, and a crocodile lay still, its tail almost completely split in half lengthways, giving it a horrifying double-tail.

Then Sam gasped and dropped the metal bowl he'd collected from the chimpanzee. It made a loud clatter, and the leopard cub that Steve had just uncovered squeaked and tried to hide.

"I was right," he said faintly. "They're smuggling humans, too."

Steve turned around, but Sam's body was obstructing the person in the cage. 

"He's white," Sam said, voice in shock. "Where'd they find a white person in Africa?"

Feeling a coil of dread deep in his gut, Steve walked forward and pushed Sam gently aside. When he caught a glimpse of the person in the cage, his legs gave out from underneath him.

Lying unconscious in the cage, his left arm torn to shreds, was Bucky.

Steve staggered to his feet and grabbed the bowl Sam had dropped, using it to beat the lock until it broke. He wrenched the door of the cage open and dragged Bucky out into the open, almost sobbing with relief when he felt a pulse. Erskine sunk to his knees beside Steve, his hands a blur as he cleaned, padded, and stitched the wounds on Bucky's arm. 

"Who the hell is this guy?" Sam asked, sounding completely bewildered.

"His name is James Buchanan Barnes," Erskine replied. "He went missing fifteen years ago with the rest of his family as they sailed to Africa. He was the only one to survive, and he's lived in the jungle with the leopards ever since."

Bucky stirred slightly, and his eyes opened, although they looked foggy and unfocused.

"Bucky? Bucky, hold on for me," Steve pleaded softly, cradling Bucky's head in his hands. Bucky frowned slightly, then reached up shakily to place his right hand on Steve's cheek.

"Steve," he rasped. 

"Yeah, Buck, I'm here," Steve whispered, leaning his forehead against Buckys. "We got you. You're safe."

In the background, Steve heard Erskine ask Sam to heat up some water, then bring down food for both Bucky and the animals. Bucky shifted slightly, his eyes becoming more focused as he frowned.

"Steve, I can't feel my arm. Is it still there?" he asked drowsily.

"It's still there," Steve reassured him. "You're going to be fine, alright? We'll be back in Africa in no time."

"Tired," Bucky murmured. 

"Keep your eyes open for me, Buck," Steve said, feeling panic shoot through him like a white-hot bolt of lightning. "Just listen to my voice, okay?"

Bucky hummed and rubbed their noses together. "Kiss me."

Steve kissed him.

It wasn't a very long kiss - in fact, it was barely a kiss at all. It was just a brush of their lips, the taste of Bucky exploding over Steve's taste buds when he licked his lip after he'd pulled away. Bucky had his eyes closed, a smile on his face, so Steve did it again. And again. Bucky lifted his right arm up to hold onto the back of Steve's head, and it was an awkward angle but it didn't matter, and Steve kept kissing him. Bucky's head was still in Steve's lap and his fingers were buried in Steve's hair and Erskine was barely a foot away working on wrapping a large bandage around Bucky's entire arm, but it didn't matter, and Steve kept kissing him.

He kept kissing him until Sam walked back in and exclaimed loudly, "Oh, NOW I get it!"

\-----

Bucky and Steve sat in the corner of the room in a large, luxurious armchair, with Sam at the wheel and steering them back to Africa. Rhodey had checked in a few times, and all the crew members were still asleep, even when Steve and Sam had pushed them into the empty cages and locked them in. Erskine stayed below deck with the animals, so Steve had taken Bucky up with Sam into the ship's main cabin. He'd sat down in an armchair, and Bucky had willingly curled up in his lap as soon as Steve had gotten comfortable. Sam had given them some chicken soup that he'd been keeping hidden in an icebox and then heated up, and Steve was holding the bowl as Bucky shovelled broth into his mouth. 

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked softly when Bucky had finished, setting the bowl off to the side. Bucky raised his knees up to his chest and rested his feet on the armrest, his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Arm hurts," Bucky said quietly, his breath tickling Steve's neck. 

"You'll need to rest for a little while when we get back home," Steve said gently. "I can get food and stuff, you don't have to worry about that."

Bucky looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed. "Home?"

Steve shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I only realized when I was already sailing away. I don't want to go back to New York."

"Why not?" Bucky asked softly. Steve looked down at him, and their noses touched.

"Because you wouldn't be there," Steve replied. "You're my home."

Bucky looked up at him with an unreadable expression, before his face broke into a huge smile and he leaned in to press their lips together again. Steve melted, and it was only when Sam loudly cleared his throat that Steve remembered they weren't the only ones in the room.

"Sorry," Steve mumbled sheepishly, but Sam just rolled his eyes.

"My baby sister is married, I know about the honeymoon phase." Sam wiggled his eyebrows. "You guys may not be married, but you still have that look about you."

"What look?" Bucky asked curiously.

"Really in love, sappy, the underlying fact that you're going to have sex as soon as you're alone," Sam counted them off on his fingers.

"Sam!" Steve felt his face turn bright red. "We can't have sex! We're not married!"

"You literally can't get married," Sam sighed. "But if you're fine about being in a relationship with a man, then it's not like God will punish you any more for having sex before marriage."

"What's God?" Bucky asked.

"I'm not religious," Steve said. Sam's eyebrows raised at the both of them.

"Alright. Personally, I love Jesus, but each to their own."

\-----

"Are you sure you're going to be okay in New York all by yourself?" Steve asked. Erskine just smiled.

"I managed quite well before you, Steven. I think I'll be fine," Erskine replied. "And I won't be alone - Samuel and James are coming with me."

"You know you'll have to enrol them as slaves so that the government doesn't take them, right?" 

"I know. I've talked about it with them and they are fine with it. They'd be slaves whether or not they're with me, and they told me they would much prefer being owned by someone who doesn't think of them as slaves."

Steve winced. "And you're going to hand in Pierce and his men? Do you have enough evidence?"

"I found a room of battle trophies in the ship. Filled with more than enough evidence to get them all convicted."

"And you'll work with the Starks to try and get slavery abolished?"

"Yes, Steven."

"And you'll share your notes with Doctor Banner?"

"Of course."

Steve sighed, and Erskine pulled him into a hug. "I'll be fine, son," Erskine said gently. "Don't follow an old man back to a country you hate because of duty. You're happy here, aren't you?"

Steve looked back to the trees, where Bucky was gently stroking the young elephant, who was taller than both of them now. His arm was almost completely healed, save for a myriad of scarring descending from his collarbone all the way to his wrist. Bucky laughed as the elephant calf poked at his face with its wet trunk, and Steve found himself smiling at the scene.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I am happy."


End file.
